


Just A Moment

by StainedGlassDreams



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bucky's a selfless mess, F/M, Love, Secret Santa, buckynat - Freeform, winterwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StainedGlassDreams/pseuds/StainedGlassDreams
Summary: It's been years. The moon's made it's orbit, the universe batted an eye not even once, and the world goes on another 365 day orbit.But he's accepted time stopped years ago for him. And she's trying catch up to it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siyuttov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siyuttov/gifts).



> For my Secret Santa & the prompt: "Bucky's new year resolution is to finally ask out Natasha. Natasha's is to give up hope on Bucky remembering their past and to move on. Up to you whether or not Bucky remembers. Preferably happy ending"  
> I hope you love it!! :) I'm so sorry for being a late poster; I've been absent as my second job had me working 12hr shifts, 6 days a week.. :(
> 
> As always, Thank You for reading :)

Letter #35 is sitting on the table.

Bucky sleeps on the bed, the first time he has in 48 hours.  
In his mind, he doesn't feel like he is. Floating in a standstill between consciousness and dreaming, afraid & knowing just what the nightmare might be.

A small glass tumbler with the smell of vodka is sitting beside the letter, along with a picture of him and-

"'talia." The word escapes from his mouth as his breaths increase, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

The letter is the 46th. He's written them inbetween missions, or the days that haven't stopped bleeding into the other since that rainy day years ago.  
....It feels more like centuries.

He moves slightly in bed, his consciousness unable to fight himself from dreaming.

He still can remember every inch of her.  
The way her hand felt against his torso. Her breaths against his neck.  
The smell he'd wake up to, and fall asleep beside.  
The way she smiled before he kissed her, or the warmth of her body that brought him back to Earth when he wasn't there.

He swears he feels someone brush their fingers through his hair, and he wakes up instantly.  
Catches his breath as sweat covers his forehead, his mind playing the usual games with him.  
You're in Vermont. You just finished a mission. You're in Vermont.

(She isn't here.)

You're in Vermont.

Closes his eyes as he exhales shakily, his body trying to ground itself.  
Does it by subconsciously reminding himself there isn't anyone there. No one's hand to hold to tell him that this, this was the only single reality. The one where she was somehow, miraculously here. That whoever controlled the higher powers that be, let it happen.  
That nightmares were a rarity. Because a dream in reality existed.

That was gone. There is no one to whisper it's okay. And if there is, it's a figment.  
He looks over at the picture he keeps on him. One of the only photographs of them the exist, the one Steve insisted on taking at the Party all those years ago.  
Standing side by side, grateful for every second it existed.  
He gets up, her voice again echoing in his mind. 'You okay?'  
And it hurts every inch of his body.

Bucky walks over to the edge of the bed, putting clothes on.  
His phone displays 2 new messages: one from some higher-up asking for his assistance. The other from Steve, checking if he was okay & telling if if he needed anything, to call whenever.

Grabbed his jacket from the closet, before leaving out the door.

The guilt in his stomach blossomed uncomfortably for ignoring it, appreciating the text.  
But no one could help him. No one would ever be able to.

Started the bike.

Because he can't tell the one person that made him feel he could be whole again, that it might be okay to, that he misses them. So damn much.


	2. Chapter 2

The breeze from the road hits his face, wearing no helmet.

His face stings, as she cradles the side.  
"That bad?"  
"Well, you can still walk a runway, if that's what you're asking."  
He chuckled softly, as he looked toward her.  
She kissed him, the pain dimishing.

He shakes his head, trying to clear it.

He hasn't slept in 2 days, and he can't stop hearing her voice.  
Memories piling on top of each other, as every dream ends the same way.

He goes down the highway, the only vehicle out.

He calls out for her as he's trying to reach her. Trying to get out that he misses her more than he'll ever be able to say. That he'll never love anyone the way he loves her.  
And just as she turns, Nobokov shoots her, saying "It's your fault." Before he wakes up. Someday's shouting, others sitting in bed, trying to convince himself he's wherever he presently is.

He can't dream anything else. The same way he can't sleep.

He makes a signal, turning onto the exit.  
Doesn't know where he's going. Only that he's too tired to question it.

And he knows it's his fault, his mind can't do anything but remember. He caused this, training Nobokov. All he's ever done is bring her pain (her voice gets mad at him for saying that), even through ever mile he gets farther away from her, it pains him like nothing ever will.

('You can reverse this.'), she says.  
He shakes his head clear again, waiting at the light.  
('Come home.')  
Home can't exist anymore.

Passes half a dozen side streets before he unconsciously turns off his bike, stopping in front of a bakery, across the street from an apartment building.  
He already knows where his mind has taken him, and his body is already screaming to leave.  
Her window is lit softly by the lamp alongside her on the desk... And he feels the Earth shift all over again.  
He's been here twice in the past week. It's too many times for a year's worth, and not enough for a month.  
The most he's stood is 5 minutes, and that was as every fiber of his being told him he needed to leave, now. But his heart, the one thing that belongs to her and her alone, wants the minutes to stretch into hours. To go through the window, like the old days, and kiss her. Tell her he was sorry for lying to her.  
For going behind her back and not just telling her. For getting her hurt.

He turns, feeling someone behind him.

"You don't make it hard to find you. You are losing your touch, old man."


	3. Chapter 3

Steve & he sit in Cage's old place, the temporary bartender minding his own business, honoring Luke.

"You've been AWOL for the past days."  
Bucky looks down at the glass of vodka, unable to look at him. "....Needed some time alone."  
Feels Steve look at the contents of the glass, and knows exactly what it means. "....You both are the same." Steve says, his whiskey only slightly touched as Bucky was on his second glass. "You both think you're better off alone. But anytime I see either of you, you both are trying to get back."  
Bucky turns to him.  
"She's been asking if SHIELD has had someone trailing her, who's had her back on a few of the missions."  
A small bloom of hope and regret comes over his chest.  
"I told her we didn't have anyone."  
Bucky pauses. ".....Thank You."  
Steve takes a sip of the drink in front of him. "I hate lying to her, you know that. Just like I hate seeing you like this. Have you even been getting any sleep?"  
He looks away, anywhere from the kid he could never really lie to. "...You don't need to worry about me Steve. I'm an old man, I can take my pills and clean my dentures like a good boy."  
But he knows the silence following the joke says everything he tried to cover up.  
"....Strange said there's a way to bring back her-"  
"Steve. .....Please." His voice sterner, trying to cover up the sadness.  
The bartender continued to wipe down glasses, beginning to close up.  
"....You're too stubborn."  
"Regret passing that onto you."  
Steve smiled softly, seeing a flicker on one on Bucky.  
"...You still coming to the New Years Party at Jessica's?"  
"Shit, forgot about that."  
Steve left money for the drinks on the table, patting Bucky on the back as he began to leave, knowing Bucky would say nothing more.  
"It's been 3 years, Buck. I'm just saying, that's what your New Years Resolution should be. Talking to Nat."  
Steve left as Bucky considered it. The most he's done in three years.


	4. Chapter 4

Tonight, he dreams of her.

He sits on the couch of their apartment, Natalia curled up next to him.  
They're watching some sappy 40's film he remembers vaguely seeing in the theaters.  
"I miss you. Every day."  
Feels her nestle before she sits up, looking at him. "I do too."  
"I wish you could."  
She touches his hand, closing hers gently around his. "Have you even asked?" Natalia comes up close to him, before whispering in his ear. "I miss you too, loverboy."

He wakes up, 11am blearily showing on the battered motel clock.  
It is December 31st.

Her voice is still ringing in his head, and he can't deny it felt real. More so than any dream he's had in the past few months.

The traffic continues outside, cars and passengers making their rounds without thought.

His encounter with Tarasova comes back slowly, her words resounding "And you wear this to mourn her?"  
His left arm, now back to blue, burned slightly as he took his right hand to it.  
Everything is for her. Everything would always be for her.

And he can miss her until the stars fall, but that doesn't mean her safety comes second.

She doesn't need a babysitter, his conscious argues.

I know she doesn't, he replies, feeling the warmth that he reminds himself is coming from the window. I can't let her get hurt again.

Does she need your protection?

Closes his eyes, the familiar ache resounding through him.  
No.

So what are you scared of?

He dismisses the thought, getting up and readying himself for his own commute. One he doesn't want to make.


	5. Chapter 5

James stands in front of the door, the keys in his hand.  
He hasn't opened the apartment since he left after Arlington. There was nothing to come back to, he conceded.  
Knows which key it is by heart, he just can't get his hand to unlock the damn door.

"(Hey loverboy.)"

Quickly puts it into the lock, and opens the door.  
It looks exactly the same when he had left it, as he stood momentarily frozen; the smell of her still somehow lingering. He found himself taking deeper breaths.  
The newspaper from that week was still sitting on the table, a thin layer of dust glittering in the sunlight from the window.

Stepped in as he recovered, expecting to see her shoes to the side but remembered he had packed all her belongings back to Fury, so she would have no possessions missing in her own apartment. The rememberance stung briefly as he walked in, making his way to their room.  
He walked to the sink, splashing water on his face to keep him rooted to reality and all it's pains as possible.

(He planted a kiss on the back of her ear as she dried her hair.  
"[You need practice sneaking up, my star.]"  
"[Maybe you can teach me.]" He smiled before moving to her neck.)

Dried his face before approaching the closet, getting one of the suits he came for.

(He finished his tie as Natalia dressed for one of Stark's parties.  
"What's this one for?"  
"Gala for the city. Why?"  
"Want to know who to Thank for you wearing the dress."  
"All you have to do is ask."  
"You look just as beautiful in pajamas."  
"Sap.")

Picked one, looking for a tie from the collection of missions they had gone on.  
And he remembers just why he never wanted to step foot in here.

(Dabbling a cut on Natasha from an earlier scrape.  
"I can take care of myself, you know."  
"I know. I want to.")

Because it was a sanctuary.

(Plays jazz records on their anniversary, as they slowdance.  
"I love you." Meaning every word.  
"I love you.")  
Picks the tie from that night.

Because it was theirs. After every successful or fucked up mission, every good and bad night, every fatigued or early morning, they could shed it all & know that they could be themselves, however broken that may have been.

(She kissed him in the shower, after a bad day on a Czech case.  
"You're here. Nowhere else."  
Pressed his head against hers, hands on her sides. "[Thank God.]")

He closes the door and begins to leave, not able to look back but his feet refusing to go out fast.

(They sit on the ledge of the tub after she stitched up a small wound. She kisses him, as one hand holds his face, the other running thru his hair softly.  
He places his left hand atop hers, closing his eyes to the comfort of her touch alone.)

He could never come back because he knows, God does he know, that one star has disappeared from the sky.

Closes the door, locking it.

And he can't bear the stare out the windows of something that was theirs, and be reminded of it. More than he already knows.  
More than his stupid heart wants nothing more than to change.


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky pulls up to Jessica's building on his motorcycle, a small rectangular buldge barely visible from the interior pocket of his suit.  
Carol was outside, dressed in a red suit and yellow shoes. "Not even a helmet? Reckless still, Barnes?"  
He smiled softly, getting off. "Like taking risks." He embraced her. "How's Rhodey?"  
"The other James? Oh you know, late as always. Assuming his best friend forever is keeping him tied up." Looks down at her watch and sighs, before turning to him. "More importantly, how are you?"  
"Fine, Thanks for asking."  
She puts her hand on his shoulder. "You can't lie to a soldier, Barnes. All our eyes can do after battle is say everything we can't."  
"....I know. But I'm doing okay."  
She nods, smiling sadly. "Tell Jess and Luke I'll be up in a bit."  
"Will do." He says, starting to go up the stairs.  
"She's there, Barnes. You do know that?" He hears Carol say as he stops on the step he was walking toward.  
"....I know." Pauses as his stomach drops, the uncertainty of it all fading into nervousness as he goes up.

Jess and Luke's small place was turned into a modest soiree, a cozy and humble difference from Stark's parties.  
Whereas Tony invited everyone and their cousins, they only invited their close friends, and their respective lovers to the party. An intimatcy rarely afforded amongst them all.  
"Bucky!" Jessica came up to him, embracing him. "It's good to see you."  
"You too, Jess. I brought you and Luke some whiskey for the party."  
"You didn't have to. I'll put it in the pantry for us later." She winked. "How've you been?"  
"I-"  
Luke came, saving Bucky the pain of lying to her. "Hey man, long time no see."  
Bucky embraced him, exchanging pleasantries back, not denying the far thought that seeing everyone again felt nice.

"Bucky." Sharon walked over, stunning as always in a white suit, giving him a tight embrace that said everything he wasn't going to answer. She looked at him, before saying "I'm glad you decided to come."  
"Steve's stubborn, you know that."  
"I'm glad he got it from you." She smiled wrly. "I'm going to get some drinks, you want one?"  
"No, I'm fine, Thanks."  
She patted his arm, before walking toward the homemade bar where Carol and Rhodey now were.

He wandered for a moment, saying hello to some of those he hadn't seen in a while. Wanda, Vision; Sam, Clint and others.  
The lump in his pocket nudged at him, burning a hole into his chest.

He stood in the living room as the world came to a shimmering halt, the black & white world he'd always lived in, brought back to color in a way he almost forgot was possible.  
Natalia was leaning on the railing of the balcony, a black dress that fell on her like how black matter suspends stars.  
Her head was slightly turned as she talked with Jessica Drew, eyes just as hauntingly green as they've always been.  
And every part of him wants nothing more than to hold her, tell her just once more how much he loves her. How much he'll always love her.  
Reality makes it's usual push, as reasoning reminds him just why that isn't possible. Why it isn't advisable.  
Naming all the infinite reasons why he should just turn around now, and stop with the moments he can't seem to stop wanting-

"Barnes!" Drew walks towards him, snapping him out of this daze. She whispered in his ear briefly "Talk to her.", before smiling and walking away.

Every time he sees her, his stomach soars like it's the first time.  
Her red hair falls on her open back, and a thousand mornings where he's kissed the back of her neck come back. He resists the urge harder than he ever has as he walks alongside her, leaning against the railing.  
She looks up, before looking back out. "Barnes.", she says as a part of him rips open again. "Didnt think you to be the party type."  
"Nah. Came to look at the view."  
"It's a good one. Great place to watch-"  
"-a target." He says absentmindedly, not even realising. Pulling away from her gaze, trying to hide it.  
She looks at him, slightly suspicious "What're you doing back in the States?" She asks.  
"...Mission. You?"  
"Research."  
"Find what you were looking for?" He asks.  
"Depends." She replies, still looking at him. "Weren't you playing Nick's replacement?"  
"Yeah. Stars didn't look as bright. Gets lonely up there."  
Feels her looking at him, more pieces crumbling as he can't look her in the eye. Still the only person he can't lie to.   
"Your star was black before you left. Felt like a color change?" Bucky looked over at her, confusion showing as he still reeled. His heart skipping multiple beats as he tried to maintain composure. "It was for someone."  
"Anyone I know?"  
He looked into her eyes, swearing he could see a flicker of recognition, knowing there was a reason he couldn't indulge.  
"....Not right now."  
"Barnes-"  
He put his hand on her open back as a million different memories flooded back to him. Her skin still just as warm. His breath shaky, he tried to come back from his mind, avoiding her gaze as he saw she felt an inexplicable wave of the same gravity. ".....Take care of yourself Tasha. Stay warm." 

He left, feeling like he was in the hospital all over again.  
Logic erupting louder than it ever had, as he started back home.


	7. Chapter 7

The keys jingle in the dark apartment as Natasha opened the door, Liho rubbing himself up against her.  
"[Hey you.]" She said, rubbing his head briefly before walking further into the room, the city light bringing the isolation of it all into clear view.

Took a cup and put it under the sink, letting the cold tap water in.

He knows.

She sipped it carefully, the gleaning light from it catching Liho's eye playfully.

Barnes knows more than he's letting on and it's frustrating her.  
She's remembering. More and more, but just....

Sets the glass down, watching the water ripple against itself.

...not enough.

The cat is now on the table, watching his owner with curiosity.  
She strokes his chin as he closes his eyes in comfort.

She hasn't felt right since Arlington. She knows that now, more than anything.

Natasha walks to the bathroom, beginning to take off her dress as she stood beside the shower.

Something was missing, her mind in a constant itch that was only ever suspended when she worked.

Takes out the small pins in her hair, all of it falling back to her shoulders in one fell swoop.

Dreams would haunt her in the night, a calming voice. Touches and kisses that felt electric, forbidden, in places she's never told anyone.

Wipes the small amount of make-up she's put on her face.

All her old habits are there. There's a gracefulness to the way she takes off her clothes, or moves. She can still recall old ballet moves, but whenever she visualizes them, she's felt a warm and cold hand cup her sides, helping her.

Takes water in her cupped hands, putting her face to it.

After that failed trip in Moscow.... Looking back, she swears she felt a strange tilt.  
The confusion over those past months melted away for a brief moment, anger as she couldn't understand fully why.

Feels refreshed as it drips off her slowly.

And now, after it all, she's 95% sure it's Barnes.

Takes a clean towel, drying herself.

The look of guilt and remorse he tries so hard to hide when she calls him by his surname; the unexplained longing he has in his eyes.  
That 5% of uncertainty however.... It's still too big.  
She went to the party tonight, with the intention of clearing it. To know if Barnes knows the missing piece she hasn't been able to grasp, the way he said her name tonight, even more proof.  
Frustration eats at her, as the 5% is still there. The only certainty is that it's dropped down to 3%.

Maybe.

But the thing is, the thing that makes the margin; why would Barnes know anything, when she doesn't even remember him?

Changes into a worn gray shirt she doesn't remember having but feels comforted by it somehow.

Natasha makes her way to the bed before her bare foot hits a hard object in her jacket.  
Natasha picks it up carefully, a million things that it could be running through her mind, knowing she had nothing in them before she left.

She pulls out a small stack of envelopes tied together with string.   
A small tag, in handwriting too familiar but too far to remember, reading "For when it comes back."  
Natasha sat down on the bed, tugging the string and unwrapping it.

Felt each of the sealed envelopes before opening them, making sure of any detonation devices.  
The first in the stack is dated to a few years ago, the paper inside from a motel pad, parchment smelling like vodka with handwriting in shaky Cyrillic.

"It's July 25th. I'm in some lousy motel, like that one in Minsk we stayed an extra night at.  
I wake up every morning, hoping to run my fingers through your hair, and tell you how grateful I am to you, but it's in my head. It's all in my head now.   
I'm a goddamn mess because this is all my fault. It always is. Forgive me. For him using you just to get to me. For me hiding this all from you. If you never do, I wouldn't blame you."

Confusion and a headache started to come, vague recollections of a cold Minsk and a warm motel room forming in her mind.  
Took the second one, still faintly of liquor but Cyrillic more composed.

"In France. I passed by that small cafe you like. I didn't get pancakes, I hear you objecting every time.  
I listened to the way the rain fell on the umbrella. And the world starts spinning over again with every memory I have to keep. But you're safe. It's all that matters. It's all that's ever mattered."

Opens the next, the shakiness back but this time, it's all in English. "Fury found me in Croatia. Nick being Nick, he roped me back in.  
My past has always haunted me. You know that. Hell, I would be walking in a daydream if it wasn't for you. I wouldn't have survived those months after Steve 'woke me up' if you weren't there. I'm a mess of broken pieces, 'talia. You put me back together.  
The mission was another haunt. I'd been chasing them since Leo. Stupid, I know. The target had a Cosmic Cube she'd built.  
....No one except her knows, that I used it before she disappeared.  
I went back, to one of the last missions we had together, just to kiss you one more time.  
I just needed a moment to be able to feel you, and tell you how much you will always mean to me.

You're safe. It's what makes this bearable. Its about the only thing I can do right."

The last pieces fell to the floor with all the force of a meteor.  
The last clicks she had been missing came slowly back, reassurance in the form of words, as more questions arose.

She reads the rest of the letters, the small memories coming back as small bouts of anger did as well, remembering pieces she didn't even know existed, the past she had been searching for in front of her this whole time.

The last letter in the stack was dated today, opening it.

"If you've read this far, then you remember. If you can forgive me for keeping this from you, then you know where I'll be."

She changed quickly as she left, inexplicably knowing exactly where it was.


	8. Chapter 8

He sits on the bed, feeling what may be the most stupid decision he's ever made.  
Wrings his hands together as the clock ticks on, now faintly blinking at 3am.

He wrapped all the letters he had written her. Every drunk plea, remembrance and memory, all kept in the stack he added to religiously.  
Never planned for her to read them, acting as a therapy. Because talking out loud to a ghost was in the near reaches of dangerous.  
Just as dangerous as this was.

Looks down, as the open window sends chills on his back.

She was his weakness. She would always be his weakness.  
In Russia, they were taught, more so the Widow program, to sever all attachment. Because your enemies will always look for one.  
Be a soldier without an Achilles heel, no weak spots. Be like a stone, like marble. Break for no one.

Remembers those brief moments in the shower of the Red Room, where he would kiss every part of her body.  
Every droplet of water on her chest, redemption. Every part of her lips, clarity that HYDRA had all but washed out of him.

And there they were. A broken soldier and a perfect ballerina, him almost getting her killed.

Closes his eyes as he looks down, remembering the similar poses men in his platoon would take in prayer.

The world ceased to exist when they were together. Corny as it may have been, it was something they never thought they would have, that he would never deserve.  
A happy ending. Soul mates, true love. Whatever the terminology, it surpassed words.  
But this job, everything comes with a price. And for him, it's her. It will always be-

He feels someone toss something onto the bed, one of his letters skidding across the sheets of his apartment bed.  
James turned, seeing Natalia draped in moonlight as she looked at him with disappointment, frustration and relief.  
He stood up in silence, in utter disbelief.  
She broke the silence, speaking in Russian. "[You owe me an explanation.]"  
James stares at her, unable to say anything, apologies on a loop in his head.  
"We met in Russia. I was your trainer. ...We-"  
"Why do I barely remember this." She said, deftly controlling her rage in the fact he hid this. He deserved every moment.  
".....In that same year, I trained numerous operatives. One of them was Leo Nobokov."

He sees her eyes get the all too familiar gleam of being lost in memory, a haze he was always in. And one he never wanted to see on her.

"He came back to kill me. But he wanted to kill me, his way. So he started by taking the one thing I cared most for. More than myself. More than anything." He found himself walking toward her slowly.  
".....He took me." She said out loud.  
James nodded. "....A procedure on your mind. That would eliminate all memories of me from you."  
More recognition began dotting her face.  
"To make you as blank as HYDRA made him. ....I found you, in Arlington." He tried to hide the emotion he'd been hiding away all these years. "...You didn't remember me. Russia, Brooklyn.... None of it. The only way to bring them back, to possibly bring them back, was to have your mind put through another procedure. And I couldn't..." Felt his voice break softly, controlling it. "....I wouldn't let them do that to you. Not for me. So I made everyone promise to not say anything.  
"I had Steve take your stuff back to your place, and remove any traces of me from your apartment, files, everything. I took that risk, of you hating me for keeping this, because it meant you were safe. No matter what, you would be safe."  
Silence resumed as he stood near her, his breathing shaky from it all.  
Natalia began walking toward him slowly, recognition coming into view. As she reached him, she looked into his eyes, angry tears coming from them. ".....I don't need a keeper."  
"...I know. I'm sorry, I-"  
She held his face and the world melted away, the years left in a stupor, as if it was all a nightmare.  
He closed his eyes, feeling every touch of her hand in case he might wake up.  
".....I'd been searching for my past. Something I missed. ....And it was you. It was you all the time, James."  
He opened his eyes, looking into hers as his widened in shock and hope.  
She drew his face closer to hers as she began to kiss him, James bursting back to life. He hesistantly took his hands to her sides, afraid she might be another alcohol induced hallucination; touching her body and feeling she was real as he gave himself over to her taste, goosebumps covering his body.  
She kissed him deeper, and every moment he thought he would be left to solely remember came rushing back, connecting to her lips.

She pulled away, opening her eyes to meet his, as he saw dawn in her green pools.  
Another beat before she once again broke the silence. "...Don't ever do that again. Don't shoulder everything, Atlas."  
"I won't." They embraced, the open window she came through, like a window from the past.

Like a moment.


End file.
